Halo: Frontlines
by Gehenna79
Summary: Post Halo 4. Peace has finally arrived for the UNSC, and the Master Chief and others are trying to figure what to do with their hard-won reward. But a mysterious new enemy has appeared, with plans to conquer both the Sangheili and the Humans, and only Sierra-117 can stop them.
1. The Watchers

**Halo: Frontlines**

**Prologue: The Watchers**

* * *

"The time has come," spoke Admiral Liang Zhao, Commander of the Xun'Kai Third Imperial Fleet, and Lord of the Tijong Dao system, "For us to conquer the humans and Sangheili, as our Emperor has commanded."

There were four other Admirals sitting at the massive oak table in Zhao's board room. The board room was a meeting place to discuss business of sensitive military matters, and it was located deep within the hull of his Flagship, the _Arrogance of Ming Shu_. The board room was a large, circular room, with the round table in the middle. On either side of the room were two curved doors, each one flanked by two Honor guards in full combat armor, holding energy lances that prickled with glowing red sparks, up high for all to see. These were Zhao's own handpicked guard, and they would die for his honor without nary a second thought.

All of the Admirals save one looked somewhat nervous by what Zhao had just said, and at their response he openly smirked. The Xun'Kai were a people unrestrained by any need to be professional. They wore their emotions on their sleeves, let themselves speak their minds when they needed to, and express their fear as well. They were a species of highly inquisitive and deadly feline humanoids, and were wildly unpredictable.

The Xun'Kai had faces that resembled a tiger's or a lion's, and had a light covering of fur all over their body. Admiral Zhao's was a light beige, with a white spot on his throat, and a speckled ring of white around his right eye. Besides that they were most easily recognizable by their tail, which was six feet long and possessed a foot long hooked blade on the end, their foremost weapon. It was known as the K'tuku, or morning blade. And to top that all off, they were a space faring species...that had so far had not revealed itself to neither the Covenant, nor the UNSC during the two Empires' ongoing hostilities.

For the last seven years they had watched them, gathered intel, waited until they were both weak enough to make their first move. Five years before, they would have attacked...but then came the Uprising of their subservient client species, the Y'gecks, reptilian humanoids who had been conquered thirty years before. This rebellion was put down, but time had been wasted. Now, in Zhao's belief, the UNSC and Sangheili must be dealt with, before they returned to their former powers...or formed a mutual alliance.

Admiral Zhen Ji, a female Xun'Kai with light silver hair, and a very thin body, spoke, "The Emperor truly has demanded this? We have only now finished dealing with the last of the Y'geck dissidents. The humans are quite powerful still, from our reports, they managed to ultimately defeat the Sangheili and San'Shyuum."

"By a hair," droned Admiral Lung Po, a fat, black and fawn colored male, "They only defeated the Covenant, as far as our intelligence knows, because they used one of the Forerunner weapons. The ones we've been trying to destroy."

"Another reason we should go to war," added Admiral Fen Huangze, another male, light brown, with an eye patch covering his left eye, removed long ago in war, "The humans and Sangheili have no qualms when it comes to using Forerunner tech. They will not destroy it properly, like us. If they are pressed into a corner, they would rather kill themselves then accept defeat. Such is the way of barbarians."

Zhao nodded in agreement. Many years ago, he had watched footage gathered from a stealth probe. The probe had gone to a human world, and recorded combat footage of the humans fighting the Covenant. The humans, instead of surrendering, blew up an entire city, killing themselves along with the Covenant. Zhao knew it was unlikely that the Covenant would show them much mercy, they too were animals, but suicide was dishonorable. And cowardly.

"The Emperor has commanded it," repeated Zhao, "And we will obey. I have started planning a quick and efficient strategy to take out both enemies at once."

"Really?" asked Ji with skepticism.

"Yes," Zhao clicked a button in front of him, embedded in the table. A holographic representation of two planets, labeled in Xun'Kai hieroglyphics, "Earth" and "Sanghelios" were brought up, along with a blue model of a human warrior and a Sangheili Elite on either side of their respective planets. "The Sangheili will be no threat to us. As of now, they are in a state of civil unrest, for reasons unknown. I would bet though that it is because the Elites are animals, and without their San'Shyuum handlers, they are without purpose. Purpose that we will give them back, whether they know they want it or not."

"How will you take the planet?"

"EMP Cannon," explained Zhao, "I will task my ships with delivering and safeguarding such a weapon to the edge of their system. Since we are unknown to them, they will not have a defense ready. Once their entire world is blacked out, we will have an hour to transport several high-profile strike teams to various locations on their planet. We will take our their government, both of them, in one fell swoop. Once they realize what's going on, we will offer a peace treaty, though, if our Psychologists are right in any way, they will not accept. We will beat them down with superior weaponry, and then offer them it again, with the provision that they may serve us as soldiers once more. After that, its only a matter of time."

"I like this plan," said Po, "Easy, efficient, and should have limited casualties."

"That is the whole point," retorted Zhao briskly, "It should be a walk in the park. They have no navy."

"What about the humans?" asked the last Admiral of the board, the one who had not been nervous over the idea of invasion, a voice so silky and full of venom, that it could only belong to Xiahou Dun, the Butcher of Y'gek. His forces had massacred over ten thousand rebellious Y'geks. He was not reprimanded, but Zhao despised anyone who could take pleasure in such wanton killing, since most of them were civilians. However, the Y'geks had killed many civilian Xun'Kai as well, and therefore his protests were unheard by the Emperor.

"Admiral Dun, that is a good question," replied Zhao, "The humans are much stronger now than their Sangheili counterparts. They may even have technology that could override our EMP systems now."

"I thought that the Covenant were more advanced than the UNSC?" asked Ji, confused.

"Yes the _Covenant_ was, but not the individual races. Without their Prophets, they have no access to the Forerunner adapted technology that made them so successful. As I said before, the Sangehili served a singular role that never changed. They are lost, without purpose. I hear the infant mortality rate has skyrocketed without Covenant doctors. But I digress.

"The UNSC is now implementing Forerunner technology in their ships. They also have the Spartans, of which we know little of other than their high success rate in battle. A war with them could be costly...and wasteful, for both sides. So we must take steps to reduce this. I have come up with a plan, Admiral Huangze came up with the idea however, and found the catalyst that will enable this plan to work."

Huangze stood and bowed, then clicked a button in front of him that brought up an image of a Halo ring in real time. "This is one of the Forerunner ring installations, one of the smaller ones. The UNSC's top priority has been finding these and decommissioning them. They will not destroy them however, and that job still remains to us. We have found this Halo ring, and have landed troops on it. We will use our long range Slipspace communicators to send out a faked distress call. The presence of a Halo ring, combined with an alien communication, will make this irresistible to them. They will send a ship at the least, and we can capture that ship, and take its data banks. And if we're lucky, we can capture a Spartan, and learn what we can from them."

"Good idea," said Ji, "I am in full support. You will have any resources you need from my fleets."

"And mine," added Po.

"And you?" asked Zhao to Dun, "What about your support?"

"The Emperor commands, and I obey, but I will say one thing," the Xun'Kai stood at full height, his tail swinging back and forth, "Our enemies are brutal savages. They will not fall easily, no matter how many fail-safes you put in. And remember this, you will have to keep control of them as well. The Sangheili are sheep, this is true, but the humans will fight desperately for freedom. You may have to do things that you might otherwise find...dishonorable."

Instead of being taken aback, Zhao simply smiled, revealing his gleaming fangs, "Don't worry, I would stop at nothing to preserve the safety of our Empire," he got up and raised his hands, and proclaimed, "Long live the Emperor! Long live the Empire!"

The other Admirals repeated his chant with fervor. Their conquest had begun.

* * *

**Author's Note: The Xun'Kai are about the same technological level as the Covenant, however, they use different parallels for their technology, and therefore have some advantages. They are completely OC. Disclaimer: I do not own Halo or anything Halo related. Thank you all for reading. **


	2. Homecoming

**Halo: Frontlines**

**Chapter One: Homecoming**

* * *

It had been one week since John, also known as Sierra-117, or, the "Master Chief" had returned to Earth. Before the attack on New Mombasa four years ago, John had actually never been to Earth. He had always thought of Earth as some alien world that he had no bearing upon, when in reality, he was fighting tooth and nail for twenty-five years to make sure that it was safe. Earth in reality, was not even as spectacular as the military stronghold of Epsilon Eridanus; better known as Reach, but that had fallen, and according to recent reports, it would be another ten years at the least before people could start recolonizing its new found glass deserts and volcanic plains.

That would be the same story for a lot of planets, John knew.

The first thing that happened when he had arrived on Earth, was that he was taken to the ONI Section Three Base in Vancouver, and his armor removed. The armor was out of date, at least, according to ONI scientists, and they needed to reclaim. They also stated, in blunt terms, that Spartans were no longer allowed to operate in such long conditions in their armor, not that they were going to punish John or anything; he hadn't done anything wrong by being stranded in space. However, there were several medical tests they needed to run on him, as well as a stack load of papers reinstating him as a citizen of the UNSC. Thankfully, his status had always been "MIA" so that cut away a good half day's work of paperwork.

The last two days though, had been dreary, and he had mostly spent them wandering the base between Physical training, just trying to get his bearings. But today, he was to meet with Lord Admiral Hood, who was coming from London just to see John himself. John felt honored, but at the same time felt like this was unnecessary. He was just a soldier, doing his job, he didn't need any pomp or circumstance.

But at the same time, he also heard that the Arbiter was coming too. The Arbiter was not exactly John's friend per se, but it would good to see the Sangheili warrior never the less, and find out what happened after the battle of the Ark.

Then hopefully, he could get back into action. John had never been one to go on vacation. There was a still a faction of rogue Covenant dissidents, the Storm Faction, out there, and they needed a Spartan boot between the gums.

John was standing on the ledge of the barracks, overlooking the training field below, when they called him in. A young, crisp looking secretary escorted him to see Hood. As he walked by, several people whistled or gave long stares of disbelief. They thought him a hero, the closest thing to a legend anyone had ever seen. John wondered if his friends, Fred, Linda, and Kelly were getting the same treatment, though, even though John would have liked to think that they would have, he knew they didn't get nearly as much press coverage as himself. This irritated John slightly, as they had done just as much as him, they just didn't have the good fortune to have Cortana.

John had immediately looked them up when he could. Fred and Linda were still in service. Fred was doing something classified, something John didn't have the access to view. Linda on the other hand, was helping train the Spartan-IVs. An interesting choice, John thought, considering that she was the most solitary of the Spartans, save for Gray Team, who had long been considered MIA, though John believed otherwise. As for Kelly however, she had actually taken the offer of retirement that the brass had given her when she had returned from...wherever it was she had gone with Dr. Halsey. John was surprised by this, but he was sure she had her reasons. Not that he would be able to understand them though.

As for Dr. Halsey herself, nobody could tell John where she was. That worried John most of all.

Finally, the Secretary took him to a room with a low ceiling, an office, where the top of John's head just barely came under the top. In the room was a desk, and standing by the window across from it, his back turned to John, was Lord Admiral Hood. The man had the vague look of a bear, large and bulky, but with a weathered, beaten face that had sunken eyes now. Rebuilding Earth from the ground up must have taken its toll, was John's guess. Immediately, John saluted and said, "Lord Admiral on deck!"

Hood turned around and smiled, then returned the salute. He said, "At ease, Chief."

Hood came up to John and appraised him up and down. Then, he put out his hand. John shook it firmly, and Hood said, "You're a damn sight for sore eyes. Brianna, leave us for a few."

The Secretary saluted and then walked out.

"Take a seat, we have much to discuss," said Hood, and John obeyed, sitting in a comfortable arm-chair in front of Hood's old-fashioned wooden desk.

"The last time we saw each other," began Hood, pouring a glass of amber-brown liquid as he spoke, "Was onboard Rtas Vadumee's ship, when you said that you were going after Cortana...and the Ark."

Hood offered a glass to John, who politely refused, Hood shrugged then kept talking, "Can I assume that you completed your mission, seeing as we're not all Flood right now?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

"Good, so Cortana's intel proved correct?"

John swallowed. Cortana's death would no doubt come up in this conversation, and the loss was still somewhat raw. "Yes, sir," was all he said.

"Then you are a bolder man than I, and here's to you," he gestured at John with his glass, and downed it in one shot, "Peruvian Whiskey. Not supposed to have it on duty, but this is a singular moment, seemed right. Anyways, how did you defeat the Flood? We have the Arbiter's account, but...I'd like to hear your side."

John explained the events that happened at the Battle of the Ark, involving the Silent Cartographer, the defeat of Truth, finding Cortana on High Charity, and then creating a Halo ring to wipe out the Flood local infection, and destroy the Ark.

"A wild tale," said Hood, "But I'll believe it from you. So the Forward Unto Dawn split in two?"

"Yes, thus why I wasn't able to come back to Active Duty for...four years."

Hood laughed, "You make it sound like it was an inconvenience. And then who woke you up?"

"The Covenant Storm Faction. Jul M'dama. They were looking for a Forerunner by the name of the Didact on Requiem, as I'm sure Lasky has told you, sir."

"Yes, I read that report. And without you again, we apparently would have all been turned into those Guilty Spark robots," Hood sighed, "Another thing we owe you."

"Sir, proud to serve, sir!"

Hood smiled slightly, then said, "So now, we must discuss something else. Technically, by all standards you are forty-three years old, am I correct?"

"Yes, sir, but a lot of that time was in cryo-sleep."

"I am aware. You still technically have seven more years of duty until forced retirement should you wish it, though the Spartans are not like other soldiers. But, you, John single-handledy saved Humanity. Whatever you think about yourself, this is the truth, and I'm not going to cast you aside, or force you to become a civilian if you don't want that, its the least we can do for you."

"I still wish to serve, sir, for as long as I can."

"I figured. However, we are at peace time now."

"What about the Storm Faction?"

"They have nowhere to go. They are stuck, on that planet Requiem. In time enough, we will take care of them, but if they go anywhere near us, they'll get crushed easily, as they have only five ships. Our technology has advanced substantially while you've been gone. While you might be able to secure a combat role in the future...I had a better idea."

John couldn't possibly think of anything more suited to him than combat but he said, "I'll go where you need me, sir."

"The Spartan-IVs are coming along quite nicely. We have a training camp, in Japan, where the best of our soldiers are pooled together to learn how to become Spartans. You may have noticed already on the Infinity, but all Spartans are now consenting adults, and we now have augmentation suited to their specifications.

"In short, I can not think of someone more qualified to train the next generation of Spartans, than the Master Chief himself. For doing this, I'm going to advance you in rank to Commander. You'll oversee all training operations, though knowing you, you'll probably want to get...hands on."

John's face was a mask of discipline, but inside he knew that this was "soft duty" and he didn't like it. Still, this was peace time, as Hood had said, and he did want to see the new Spartans succeed, so he said, "You can count on me to get it done, sir."

"Good," replied Hood approvingly, "Welcome back to the Navy...Commander."

* * *

Several more packets of papers arrived for John when he returned to his temporary apartment housing. It was a nicer place than John had ever slept in, the bed actually had had pillows and sheets, though John had put the pillows away, as they were too soft for his liking. At the sight of the yellow envelopes, John frowned, and decided that he would go out for a 10 k run before tackling those papers. A lot of them had to do with taxes. John had never gotten paid as a Spartan before, it had never been a priority during the war that might end humanity. However, now that he was a Commander, he was going to be making a decent salary of ten thousand a month.

John had no clue how he was going to spend it.

But for the moment, he would push that thought aside to give thought on more concerning priorities. As he walked down to the running track, where a couple of other marines and base personnel were exercising, he was thinking about how exactly he was going to go about teaching the Spartan-IVs what they needed to be exception shoulders. Everything about his training had been crafted from two sources, Mendez and Deja. However, the difference was that they were more than just teachers, they were parents, raising a collective tribe of youth and forming them into powerful weapons. His students would be adults, much more intelligent, and definitely more free-spirited.

They would be all from the ranks of the UNSC already, so they would know respect and discipline, but they wouldn't be prepared for the intensity of the training they would receive. They would have to also operate always as a team; John knew from observing soldiers, that soldiers held grudges and competed against each other viciously. Rivalries would form, and John was no stranger to that, long having stood against the hate of the ODST corps, though Halsey had once said that they only acted that way because they felt threatened. And many of his new recruits would be ODST's.

John started into a run, though it felt like a jog to him, nice and easy. He wished that the other people on the track would stop looking at him. They viewed him as something larger than life, and now that the war was over, he did not anticipate the coming of journalists trying to get "his story." From what he had learned, they had tried to do the same to Kelly, who promptly smashed their cameras and scared them off. John wanted to have a little more tact though, now that he was a Commander.

And that was another thing. For almost thirty years, John had been known as the "Master Chief." The title was as much a part of him as his hands or feet were. To hear that it was now gone, that part of him cleansed away; was as a big a shock as anything else. John frowned again, even as he ran, knowing that it would not be easy to try and adapt into this new world.

But then again, what had been?

He ran for sometime more, until something stopped him. It was a bipedal person, but it was no human. And as he ran around the curve of the track and got closer, it began apparent who...and what it was.

The Arbiter, de-facto leader of the Sangheili people, stood at the edge of the track. He still wore his antique, onyx black armor, the scars of his humiliation still somewhat visible. His face was lean and hungry, like a shark's, and could split into four different parts, thus why they were sometimes called "hinge-heads" or "Squids". He was only half a foot taller than John was, and had muscular arms and legs that were incredibly powerful. He wore no weapons though, which instinctively calmed John. Even though the Arbiter was an ally at the end, John thought only of danger when an Elite had a weapon.

The two looked at each other in silence for a moment, then the Arbiter _whiffed_ and said, "I never thought you had really died."

The Elite put out his reptilian hand for John to shake, and John returned the gesture. "Good to see you're still in one piece," said John politely.

"Were it so easy," explained the Arbiter, "I heard you ran into M'dama's forces. I take it you took care of them?"

"Not all of them, unfortunately," said John, "But they'll get theirs soon."

"Yes. Hard to believe that even after everything that's happened, that there still are those that would follow the Prophet's lies."

John thought about the Didact, and his immense power. Twice, the Didact had been able to lift John into the air without even touching him. If there was such a thing as god-like power...than that would be it. And maybe the Prophet's weren't wrong about the Forerunners being gods after all. But he said nothing, and the two began to walk. "What are you doing here?" asked John, curiously.

"My people are in a state of civil war. The Insurrectionists, to borrow your human word, laid siege to my keep. It was only through the actions of your Lord Hood, that I am alive. As of now, I stay here with the remnant of my Loyalist forces, preparing to strike back. I have longed to go into battle again, but I must coordinate several campaigns all over our space at once. Your Lord Hood allowed us to park one of our ships here, _Triumphant Sacrifice_, and use it as a base. Unfortunately, we are confined to this base, as well, your people would not like it if we walked around your world."

John could understand that. The people of Earth had not fought for twenty-five years against the Arbiter's people, just so they could walk freely. It would probably cause a riot.

"When do you think you will attack your home world?"

"Soon," said the Arbiter fiercely, "And when we do, M'dama's traitorous blood will wet my blade. I intend to kill him with a more...traditional weapon."

"Seems to have pissed you off."

"You could say that," John could not read Sangehili facial expressions that well, but the Elite seemed to smile with his mandibles.

"If I can," said John, "I'll help you take back your home world. Without your elites, the Flood would have probably destroyed this planet."

"While true," agreed the Arbiter, "It is you that I should really be thanking. Without you, all life in the galaxy would have been killed by that murderous Oracle. May it rot in hell forever! But that is neither here nor there. If you can help, I will gladly take it. The fight will be glorious."

John was good at fighting, but he never deigned to call it "glorious." A better word would be "chaotic" or "messy."

With nothing else to say, John said, "I better get back to work. Classified stuff, you understand."

"Of course, I merely needed to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive. You might be the only human in the universe that I might actually..."

"Respect?"

"I have respected your people's prowess before...I meant to say...like. Good day, Spartan."

The Arbiter stalked away. Sentimentality from a Sangheili? That was quite possibly the strangest thing John had seen in a long, long time.


	3. Passing of the Torch

**Halo: Frontlines**

**Chapter Three: Passing of the Torch**

* * *

Augustus drove his Chopper through the jungle road, splashing up tides of mud and puddle water up from the ground and over the shores of green ferns by the road-side. The Chopper was a medium-sized vehicle, with a relatively small chassis compared to the large front wheel, that was covered in spiky plating. The Chopper was one of the more successful vehicles built by the Jiralhanae, better known by anybody else as the Brutes.

The road was mostly clear, which Augustus thought good, since he needed to get back to his home village of Avangor soon. He had gotten a letter, an actual paper letter, from a scout nearby that his father, the Patriarch of his pack, was dying, wounded in battle with a pack of Thorn Beast outside the plains of Nivenor. The wound was fatal, and his father had to administer the right of Patriarchy; before contenders for the title would come seeking to take it by force.

The Jiralhanae homeworld of Doisac was a world mostly covered in lush, tropical forests, though huge swaths of nuclear wasteland still remained from wars long forgotten by the violent Brutes. Augustus had once been a shipmaster, ranked up when the Great Schism began, and ordered by the Prophet of Truth himself to bring cleansing light to the humans on Earth. He had killed many of the humans, and had even taken part in strikes on their military bases in person, not wanting to be left out of the hunt. But the Prophet was dead, the Covenant broken, and humanity was now more powerful than his race. It had not been fair, for so long the Jiralhanae had waited to seize power from the arrogant Sangheili. And they had only had their power for two weeks.

Now, his species was back to what life was like before, granted they still had a few ships. But most of his kind had been slaughtered, over twenty percent of the male population. Others had been enslaved by the Sangheili, forced to work as laborers on Sanghelios. The very thought of the squid-heads ordering around Augustus' brothers made his blood boil. But they would get their penance one day. For now, Augustus would worry about things at home.

The Chopper finally came to the outskirts of the village, bounding over rock and hills, and sliding at an angle into the village center. The village had a small population of only a thousand, and was made out of mostly timber huts spread around a large watering hole. A herd of Swanari, large mammals that gave good milk and fresh meat, grazed by the water's edge. They were ungulates, similar to cows. There were no roads, no sewage system in this village. To think that he had once been on an advanced vessel, bombing infidels without pause, and now reduced to this primitive state, that too made Augustus furious.

A few Unggoy scavenged for food on the streets, looking in trash cans and such. They were pests, and the first thing Augustus would do once he was Patriarch of the village, was to order their execution. His father had not bothered for he had been preoccupied with other matters.

Augustus' family hut was at the top of a large hill, overlooking the rest of the village. Nearby, a group of males were gathered, their heads bowed in prayer. Many still believed in the faith of the Covenant, especially the warriors who had managed to return home from war. Augustus had thrown away that faith. The Prophets had not saved his men from dying, had not stopped the humans from destroying the Ark. The Prophets were not gods, they were liars. But Augustus kept such thoughts to himself.

He shoved the door of the hut open, and walked in testily. A group of females were waiting in the hall. Some were Augustus' father's wives and concubines, others were mourners come to pay his respects. Jiralhanae females were smaller and less bulky than the males, but were still quite strong on their own. However, the Brutes did not let their females off world, only rarely did a female Jiralhanae join the Covenant military. They were reserved for breeding and taking care of infrastructure while the males went off to war. That was what, in the male Jiralhanae's belief, they had been created for. They were little more than servants and sex slaves to most.

Augustus pushed them out of the way, and walked over to his father's bed side. The sheets near his father were tainted with dark red blood. His father's fur was also stained as well. His father, while old, was still an impressive Jiralhanae. His fur was the color of shining silver, and he weighed easily over seven hundred pounds of thick muscle. His snout and fangs were wrinkled in a grimace of pain, obviously trying his best to stem death so he could speak with his son one last time. Augustus had guessed the old brute's time was soon; he had many tumors. Augustus could even see his father taking on a pack of Thorn beast alone, so that he could die more proudly than by disease.

"My son," croaked Denoch, "Come hither."

Augustus came to his father's bedside and knelt. His father waved his hand and said to his retainers, "Leave us."

The females left, leaving the two alone.

"You should have seen that Thorn Beast," his father spoke again, "It was glorious, a true monster. I am glad to have been killed by such a creature, then be killed by my illnesses."

Augustus nodded, "I am sure it was a glorious fight, father."

"We have little time to waste. Within the next two hours, my wounds will kill me, and I will go on to the great Void of our ancestors. I believe not in the Great Journey anymore, and I hope that you do not either."

"No," Augustus shook his head, "The Prophets were liars."

"Yes. But these are still dangerous things to say, and therefore before I administer the right to lead our clan and this village, I must give you two last commands," his father coughed, flecks of blood coming out on his fur.

"What do you wish of me, father?"

"The first, is that you must weed out the Nuchii. They remain loyal to the Prophets. You can not do it now, but within time, after you have gained allies, you must eliminate them and their progeny, so that their zealotry dies with them."

The Nuchii were a lesser pack in the village that also had members that served on ships of the Covenant. They still preached daily in the city's center that the Prophets were still alive, and that they should continue their war of genocide against the heathen Sangheili.

"Of course, father. What is the other command?"

"What I tell you will change many things, you must be prepared to meet such change with ferocity, as is our way."

"I will be prepared."

"I pray to the Ancestors that you will be. For the first time in a thousand years, there is going to be a High Moot."

Augustus' eyes widened in surprise. The High Moot was the legendary rite in which a High Chieftain was chosen among all major Jiralhane clans. The last one was a thousand years ago, when Rukt of Verrifault was chosen after defeating several lesser clans in battle. It was a series of military campaigns with strict guidelines, and the winner would be declared High Chieftain of Doisac. There had not been one in a thousand years, for the Dynasty of Rukt soon led to nuclear war that ruined several areas of the planet. That was how the San'Shyuum had found the Jiralhanae, pre-industrial again for they had blown themselves up. But Augustus cared little for the lessons of history, all he could think of was the glory of the hunt.

"A high moot?" repeated Augustus.

"Yes. Such a chance for status will not happen again in ages. You must go there, with your warriors and make a name for yourself. I do not expect you have the skill to become High Chieftain," Augustus bristled with offense, "But I know you can prove yourself an ally to those who can. We have a chance to increase our status. I was planning to go myself but as you can see," Denoch chuckled grimly, "I seem to be unable."

"I will go forth and bring our Pack and Clan great victory!" promised Augustus.

"Good, now let us do the rite."

Augustus bowed his head low and his father recited an ancient liturgy since time immemorial. "Augustus, son of my blood, do you swear to steadfastly guard this pack and Clan against the wickedness and evil of those who would do harm against us?"

"I swear."

"Augustus, son of my blood, do you swear to rip our enemies to pieces, and drown them in a geyser of their own blood?"

"I swear."

"Augustus, son of my blood, do you swear to mate with as many fertile females as you can before your death, so that our race endures and prospers?"

"I swear."

"And Augusuts, son of my blood, do you swear to never forsake what it means to be Jiralhanae? To be savage and cruel to our enemies, and respect the order of the Pack?"

"I swear."

"Then let it be known now, that you are now Patriarch. May you follow the Path laid out to you by your Ancestors with pride."

There was a small measure of silence that followed, then his father grunted and said, "Now leave me. I wish to mate once more before I die. Bring in Greka, she is...my favorite."

* * *

**Author's Note: Last update for a little while. Need to finish one of my crossover fics, but hope you all enjoy this one. Except for the novel Contact Harvest, there hasn't been much talk about the Brutes from the Brute point of view. I find them fascinating, and much more interesting than the Elites (though not as fun to fight against). This fic will mostly switch off between the viewpoints of Augustus and MC, and then a third viewpoint will be added later, one of the ODST's from Halo 3: ODST.**


	4. Reunion

**Halo Frontlines**

**Chapter Three: Reunion**

* * *

John sat in the back of the black SUV, as it rounded about the side of the mountain face, climbing up a steep swirling road. Dust from the gravel was kicked up behind them, and the crackle of the tired wading through the rocks could be heard from underneath the floor of the car, as they rattled against the chassis. All around was wilderness, huge expanses of pine trees, and in the distance a group of snow-capped mountains stood in natural splendor. John was in the middle of Colorado, out a little ways from the nearest shuttle-port, on one last piece of business before he went to Kyoto and began his new assignment. He was here to see one of his old team, to find out what happened to them while he was gone...and why they had decided to retire.

For up here, in these mountains was the home of Kelly-087.

It had not been hard at all to find her location; all John simply had to do was ask. Soon enough a member of Section Three had given him her location, and he had scheduled a shuttle to Colorado, one of the last few places on Earth not completely colonized or overrun by humanity, a sort of nature preserve, with a few small settlements based around tourism, at least before the war had hit earth. Things were going back to normal. Why of all places, Kelly had chosen to isolate herself from the rest of the world, John had no clue, but he was going to find out.

The man driving the SUV was Wilkins, a former marine who had been given an honorable discharge after the Siege of Madrigal, due to a wound that left him needing a back brace. He did some light duty for a while before retiring, then helped out as a quartermaster when the Covenant hit Earth hard. Wilkins was a middle aged man with tanned skin, short brown hair, and he wore a black suit and dark shades. He was John's new attache, basically a glorified butler, to drive John around, take care of his luggage, and do his laundry, among other things. John didn't particularly like the idea of this, but Hood had insisted, so he relented under pressure.

The SUV started encountering difficulty moving up the hill, and it started to slow down. Wilkins hit the throttle a little bit, and soon they continued on their way until they reached the top of the mountain. The view was astounding. Reach had been beautiful in its own way, John mused, but Earth had a much more ancient beauty to it. Reach was a fairly young planet, only a billion years old according to the textbooks.

"We're here I think sir," said Wilkins brusquely. John could see a small two story house sitting in the middle of a flat plain of pine trees. There was a car parked outside the house, and the only other building was a small red shed. There was nothing else there.

"Yeah," replied John, "I think we're here too."

"I'll just wait until you're done, unless you need something, sir."

"I'll be good," John said, then he hastily added, "Thanks."

"All part of the service. Its a real honor to be serving the man who saved humanity."

There it was again. John merely said, "Just doing my job."

"Yeah heroes are always modest, but I'll shut up now, sir."

John got out of the SUV, and Wilkins drove it over to the other side of the road. The air was filled with the sounds of birds in the treetops. Very far in the distance, John's acute Spartan eyes could see a troop of mountain climbers on a nearby mountain, armed with robes and hooks, packs on their backs. John was reminded of a memory, him, Fred, Kelly, Linda, and Sam, all doing a mission on Reach, learning how to climb mountains and operate in high altitudes. That had been a fun two weeks, he remembered. He smiled at the thought.

John walked over to the door, and took a moment before knocking sharply upon the door.

There was no answer for a moment, and John thought to knock again, until the door simply opened.

Standing in the doorway, was Kelly.

She looked not very much different than she normally did, only for the first time in John's entire life, did her see her in anything other than her Spartan armor or military fatigues. She still had the same short brown hair and blue-grey eyes, the same quiet expression on her face, and slim figure. John was still a bit taller than her as well. She was wearing a pear of jeans and a long sleeved shirt. There was a period of silence between the two until Kelly finally said in disbelief, "John?"

"May I come in?" asked John.

Her mouth was agape but she regained her composure, and said, "Of course, John, come on in. I was wondering when you'd stop by."

She hadn't lost any of her humor, John was glad to see. "You heard that I had come back?"

"Yeah, media had two weeks of coverage on you, hard not to miss it."

"You get news up here?"

"Satellite coverage, only the best for the retired Spartan, do you want anything to drink?"

"What do you usually have?" inquired John.

"I'm a real fan of tea now, but coffee is good too, though expensive, since a lot of the major coffee growing areas of the world were glassed by the Covenant Separatists, though I'm sure you knew that before I did."

"It was necessary," John remembered that the Flood had arrived, and Rtas Vadum's assertion that one Flood spore could destroy a planet. There was no other choice than to cleanse the entire heart of Africa, just to be safe.

"I know. I heard what you stopped," she gave him a look then smiled, "Good work, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir anymore, Kelly, from what I've heard?"

"Yeah well, old habits die hard, so what will it be?"

"Whatever you're having."

"Tea it is then, so you want to tell me what happened after Halsey abducted me and screwed the pooch?"

"I was hoping you could tell me where the Doctor is, if she's alive at all?"

"Sorry John, classified."

John frowned, "Figures. I want you to tell me your story first though."

"Alright, but I expect you to drink all your tea."

John nodded, he would have anyway. For a disciplined man like John, he would consider impolite if he did not finish what was offered. She poured him a cup and then she began.

* * *

"So as you know, I was abducted by Halsey. Where she was going was a place she had only found out about from the secret ONI files in the Castle Base. Hard to believe that there were secrets at home that even we didn't know about, but there were. Now, what I'm telling you is also classified, so I can't tell you everything, but I think you deserve the whole story. If you don't feel comfortable with that, let me know now."

Normally John would abide by his rules, but he wanted to know everything that happened to Kelly, so he said, "I trust your judgement, continue."

"Good," Kelly continued, taking a sip of her tea, "So Halsey takes us to a planet called Onyx. Its a good garden world, nothing too interesting about it, only thing about it is that its a training facility. See, without Halsey or anybody else knowing, Colonel Ackerson, you know that prick who tried to rig your MJOLNIR test run? Yeah, he apparently was using Halsey's data to build his own Spartans."

"Really?" John asked in disbelief.

"Yeah, only thing is that they didn't have as much funds for the second batch, so they called them Spartan Threes, and gave them inferior armor. It was still better than what most Marines or even ODST's get, mind you, but it was still inferior. In the end, we got there, and found out that those...guys who built the Halos you were talking about, well they had robots on the planet that didn't like us very much, and were killing the Spartan Threes, so we helped them out."

"Sentinels," said John.

"Yeah, the flying ones. Then...I met up with an old friend of ours. I can't say who. But you would have been glad to see he was alive."

John was really confused by what she said, but he simply nodded.

"However, then the Elites started showing up. They started killing all of the robots, and were looking for something. What happened was that they were looking for the place the robots were coming from, and so we went in there. A couple of good people lost their lives giving us the chance to escape, but in the end, what happened is something I can't even explain. All I know is that you remember that crystal we got for Doc Halsey on C'ote de Azur?"

"Yeah."

"It was shit like that. Only a lot creepier. I can't talk about that much either, but lets just say that it took us some place similar to that Halo ring. It was quite pretty. In the end though, we managed to escape, and then ONI found us. Me, the last Spartan-III's, Dr. Halsey, and Mendez all survived."

"Where's Mendez?"

"Kyoto, with Linda."

That was going to be really hard to get used to, ordering around the man who had raised him.

"And the Spartan-III's?"

"Rehab. I don't know for sure, but I think they got some things done to them that we didn't get. Things a lot more unethical, and not efficient either."

"And Halsey is...somewhere."

"Yes."

John mulled it all over and said, "Alright, thank you for telling me what you could."

"No problem, now you tell me your story."

It took about an hour, but John relayed the entire adventure he had from when he had left her last. Everything from the First Strike on the _Unyielding Hierophant_, to the battle for Earth, the Delta Halo, and then the battle of the Ark. John didn't really know what was classified, but he knew that nobody knew about the Didact's attack on Earth save Lasky, the Infinity, and the Brass up in FLEETCOM. So he declined to tell her about that, and instead just said that the Infinity had found him floating around in space when they were on their mission, and had taken him back, which was not entirely false, since that was what happened after the battle. Kelly listened without saying a word then nodded, "Good thing they found you by chance. Otherwise you might have floated around a bit forever. Where's your AI though? Cortana?"

John thought she might ask and just said, "She...went rampant. Had to purge her on the Infinity. It was best for her and everybody else."

"Yeah, that seven year life-span is a bitch. But maybe there's heaven for Intelligences somewhere. I've no clue."

"Why are you living out here in Colorado anyway though, you never mentioned?"

"Wanted to get away from the crowds, commune with nature, all that shit. Linda was here for a little while, she liked the silence too."

"How do you get supplies?"

"Well...I have this military pension thing...basically I'm living off the government, though they've wanted to do a lot more than just necessities, even offered to start up a hobby farm, now that's a crazy idea, but maybe I'll do it, get some income on the side. The reporters will make sure people know where it is."

John looked at the time. Two hours had passed. He would need to leave soon, not just because he had a shuttle to catch, but also because he didn't want to make Wilkins wait any longer. This was supposed to have been just a quick visit. But he had one more question to ask.

"Well," said John, "I think I'm going to have to get going. But there's one thing I have to ask."

"Why i'm retired?"

She was good. "Yes."

Kelly sighed and leaned back into her chair, "I suppose that's fair enough. I'm not like you and Fred not totally. I was ready to give everything for the mission, for Earth, for humanity but...when they offered me retirement, I realized, this is the peace we've been fighting for, for so long. This kind of thing doesn't happen every day. The way I figured, I wanted to enjoy what we had lost so many comrades to achieve. It was the best way I could think of, that would honor them anyways. But even besides all that, I'm just tired. I now you've always been tenacious John, but...I'm still surprised you didn't want to have a break."

John shook his head, "That's not possible, not for me anymore."

"I know that now, but I hoped. So what's your opinion?"

To himself, John felt like Kelly was giving up, slacking off her duty. But there was no way he could say that to one of his closest comrades, someone who had had his back over a thousand times in the most impossible missions. Instead, John said, "You need to do what you need to do. You deserve a break if you want it."

Kelly didn't reply for a moment, then looked away from the window, "Alright. Well I won't keep you. Hopefully you'll come back and visit me in the future."

John walked to the door and replied only with, "Yeah that would be...good."

And he walked out.

When Wilkins started driving him down the road again and asked, "Did you get what you needed, sir?" Wilkins had been under the impression that John was going out here to get something that would help him with his tasks.

John merely answered, "No, I didn't. But we'll move on."

* * *

**Author's Note: Before anyone deigns it necessary to inform me, yes I'm aware that it is unlikely Kelly would retire from being a Spartan, and therefore she is sort of out of character. However, I wanted to add some drama in the story, and its not _that _disruptive to Halo Lore. She's not a famous pop artist now or on a cooking show, so yeah I think its justified, though I will respect anyone's differing opinions. **


	5. Coup D'etat

**Halo: Frontlines**

**Chapter Four: Coup D'etat**

* * *

Augustus stood on the balcony of the Nuchii estate, a large two story lodge that was made of logs, that was nestled in the Kenshuri Valley on the outskirts of Avangor's hold. On both sides were large tracts of land covered in jungle, with small strips of arable farmland on the outskirts. The heads of crops sprouted out from the rich earth, as well as herds of Swanari. It was midnight, or the Doisac equivalent, and the three moons hung high in the sky, gleaming silver, keeping their ever watchful vigil of events down below. Tartarus had taken the Nuchii estate, but was waiting for one of them to return from a hunt, so that his father's last wish could finally be performed.

It had been two weeks since Augustus had officially taken on the mantle of Patriarch for Avangor. Immediately he had seized control, forcefully and personally taking care of some of the problems that the town had. This had to be done. There would be those within his hold that would claim him weak, for he had not challenged his father for the right to rule. Immediately, true to his word, Augustus had removed the local Unggoy population, decapitating them and mounting their small, walnut heads on top of spikes, blue blood streaming down the metal and stinking in the heat of day. The Kig-yar unfortunately had to be spared, since they were relied by many as plantation workers, some voluntarily, others taken as slaves from the fleets. Augustus did not want to anger the other rival clans so early in his career, so he let them live for the time being.

After that, the second most important thing was to lay claim to the village's females, those that had not been declared the property of other rivals. Some of them were willing, coming up to his chambers, ready and eager, keeping him up all night. Others had not been such, and he had instructed his men to bring him to them. They were easily subdued, and soon, many of his progeny would fuel the town's ambitions. Once that had been taken care of, he had declared Narla, the sister of his second-in command, to be his Lead Wife and take command of all property. She would watch over and rule in his stead when he left to take part in the great Moot.

Then, he had resolved to take care of the Nuchii upstarts, as he had promised his father. They had actually dared rail against his leadership, but did not follow up with a challenge. He would have preferred that, as a victory would encourage others to join him in their collective genocide. But they had not, so instead he had planned a surprise attack on their homestead, with four of his best troops. Everybody, including the servants, had been sleeping, and the guards at the front gate were easily taken care of. They had stormed the house, and bashed the family's heads in with stones. The slaves and servants were spared. The males would be given the chance to join them and prove their worth, and the females would be given as gifts to his loyal followers.

But the current Patriarch of the Clan, Brucchar, and his son, Lars, had been out hunting, and were not due to return until later that evening. And so Augustus was waiting for them, alone. He would defeat them by himself, to prove his strength. If he could not, then he was not fit to be leader. It already would look bad enough that he attacked at night, instead of issuing a formal challenge. But, he could take no chances that they could live to breed more Nuchii.

Augustus heard a crackle from behind him, interrupting his thoughts. A rough voice came over on the radio communicator he kept with him. It was Hadrian, his top lieutenant, a Jiralhanae he had fought with during the Great War and trusted more than any other, if Brutes could trust anyone at all. He asked, "Chieftain, any sign of the Nuchii yet?"

"Negative, Hadrian."

"Hm. Should I investigate the Southern road?"

"Negative. I can wait all night if I must."

"Affirmative. Are you sure you do not require assistance?"

Augustus chuckled softly and then replied, "You fret more than an Unggoy bitch over her pups. I will be fine. This is my task."

"Of course, Chieftain, I did not mean to imply you had cowardice."

"I know. I know you well enough. Wait where you are."

"Affirmative."

Augustus continued to wait, and could not help but stare at the moon. He had once seen and visited countless moons, but now he was here again, fighting to rule a primitive village. He scowled. The humans would pay one day.

However, he could not help but wonder why the Sangheili were allying with the humans. He understood why they had fought together at the end of the war, this was true, it had been an alliance of mutual benefit. But the Sangehili and the Humans allied after? If anything the Sangehili should have felt just as angry at the humans as his own people did. The Humans were a blight on the galaxy, worse than Unggoy and Kig-Yar. The Sangehili would play, but while he kept this thought to himself, Augustus respected them for their prowess in battle at least. Their pitiful "honor" though was idiotic at best. There was nothing honorable about battle, only savagery, and the right to wield power.

But those questions would never be answered in his lifetime, so Augustus put them out of his mind.

Finally, the wind picked up, and he could smell the scent of other Jiralhanae coming from the south. A chopper bob-sled came up on the road, and its headlights glowed white and yellow, lighting up the road in front of it. This was it. Augustus took apart his Spike Rifle, just to ready himself, and then sat in a chair on the balcony.

He waited.

Five minutes later, he heard a roar of anger unlike anything. His hairs stood up on end, but he calmed himself down.

He heard the crash of furniture being turned over, the sounds of plates and dishes crashing into little pieces on the floor.

Finally, Augustus watched as the door of the balcony opened, and a full grown male Jiralhanae, Brucchar, came in. He had a shaggy coat of gray, with a flat face now contorted in a snarl. It was just him though.

"You," was all Brucchar said.

"It is time your lies were silenced," Augustus held up the Spike rifle in his left hand.

"HERETIC!" Brucchar leapt into the air.

Augustus back swiped the Spike Rifle across the older Jiralhanae's face, creating a bloody gash from the weapon's underbarrel blade. Then, Augustus took hold of Brucchar's throat and tossed him bodily over the edge of the balcony. The older Jiralhanae fell down to the ground, landing on his back.

He probably wouldn't be dead though. Brutes have thick bones.

He started heading downstairs and ran into Lars rooting around the corpses of dead females, looking for survivors. Lars looked up, but before he could even act, Augustus fired a stream of shots, glowing hot-red, at Lars' face. They speared him, and Augustus did not even miss a shot. Lars slumped to the ground like a rag doll, dead. Red blood pooled from the wounds and onto the wooden floor, making it sticky. The smell of heat and smoke followed. Augustus left and went outside.

Brucchar was beginning to get up, his nose broken and bleeding, some of his teeth missing from the fall. Augustus grunted and then kneed the old Brute in the chest.

Augustus turned him over and pointed the Spiker at his face.

"Just do it already," Brucchar said, coughing up blood.

"Pity," replied Augustus condescendingly, "I would have thought you would have put more of a fight."

"You will never walk the Great Journey," Brucchar spat at Augustus' feet.

Augustus fired a single shot at Brucchar's forehead, silencing him forever. The sound of insects chirping and Swaanari moaning in the back ground were the only sound that could be heard in the relative nightime silence.

Then as way of a parting goodbye, Augustus said, "No, and neither will you."


End file.
